


No One the Wiser

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity, Light BDSM, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One the Wiser

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **hp_humpdrabbles** 'Humpfest 2013'. Thanks to lightofdaye for cheerleading. (March 2013)

This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.

Instead, Rose could only hope that it wouldn't be discovered at all. It could fall to the floor with a thud at any moment, nestled as it was in the shallow pocket of the jeans that were hanging off one ankle. 

Two long fingers entered her in counterpoint to the tongue working her just above, and Rose bit her fist, trying not to move her hips lest the object be dislodged from her jeans – or worse, lest he decide to stop as he had threatened to do if she did not follow his orders to the letter. Did he know? Was this meant to be some type of twisted punishment?

No, it was a dream. It had to be.

Except that it wasn't. And it wasn't Scorpius with his face between her legs. She had left Scorpius back at her studio apartment, sleeping soundly. She tried not to think about the fact that she would return to him covered with sweat, her arousal coating her thighs, marks blossoming across her hips that would have to be concealed. 

When she was a moment away from release, Draco Malfoy stopped abruptly, rising above her with a lazy smirk, still completely dressed. In less than a few seconds, he was pushing inside her with a low purr, and there was no going back now.

He nipped at her earlobe as he began a slow rhythm that he punctuated with whispered words: "You are always such a… _nice… tight… fuck_."

Rose wondered what he meant by _always_.

* * *

This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.

She could confess. But Scorpius wanted her to have it so badly, and she had never had anything like it before. In fact, part of her felt cheated to have to return it at all. Scorpius never appreciated what he had. 

How many times had Rose wished they could return it together? How many times had she daydreamed that she and Scorpius would sneak back into this very room, so sacred to his father, and that Scorpius would take her just like this, on her hands and knees in front of that marble fireplace?

"You like it like this?" Mr. Malfoy asked as he made slow, shallow thrusts into her from behind. "Does it allow you to pretend I’m him?"

It was a ridiculous question. Scorpius would never keep her in this position until her knees and back ached and dare her to move a muscle as he fed her his length, his eyes gleaming when she started to choke. He would never leave red-hot handprints on her arse and thighs, and he would never hold her down with one firm hand between her shoulder blades and demand that she beg to be impaled.

"Or maybe it’s the other way around," he whispered. "Maybe you think about me when my son is giving it to you."

"You’re sick," Rose spat, nearly in tears from wanting to come so badly.

"Now, now," he said. His voice was gentle, but he fisted his hand in her hair, jerking her head back until she cried out from the angle. "I don't think you want to enter into a name-calling contest with me."

She knew exactly what he wanted to call her, and she was surprised he didn't. Then again, in her present position, he didn't have to.

"You know how to make this stop," he continued, now tenderly massaging her scalp as he picked up his pace. "But you never do."

Rose was too busy screaming out her release to wonder what he meant by that.

* * *

This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.

"Why are you doing this?" Rose demanded as Mr. Malfoy caged her in against one of his many bookshelves, his fingers working the buttons of her shirt.

She should be panicked. She should be fighting. She should at least be trying to find her wand. Somehow, he had found out. She had dreamt of suffering his revenge many times over, in this very room, but being here now was different. 

Mr. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Take your pick," he deadpanned. "Because I can." Rose gasped as he jerked her shirt down, imprisoning her arms in it. "Because you want it." Her jerked her bra cups down, his nails scratching the sensitive skin of her breasts. "Because I love to hear a Weasley beg for my cock. And you beg so nicely—" He smiled as he twisted her nipple, causing her to cry out between gritted teeth. "—every single time I do this to you."

* * *

This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.

Her back hit the wall. “Where’s your wife?” she asked. Surely he wouldn’t try anything with his wife at home. 

"Not here," Mr. Malfoy replied with a shrug. "Neither is anyone else, for that matter. We're all alone. So feel free to make noise." His eyes widened briefly as a faint smile curled his lips. "You already know how much that turns me on."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rose insisted, but already her mind began conjuring images from nowhere – not memories, but not dreams, either. 

"Ah. Of course you don't. You’ve never, ever thought about sitting down on my dick and having a long, hard ride, have you?"

That wasn't the point.

"And you would never get on your hands and knees and crawl from the fireplace to that desk over there and ask me to please, _please_ fuck your face. Would you?"

The words went straight to the base of her spine, the object in her pocket forgotten.

"And you would never, in a million years, let me bend you over the back of that settee and pound your tight arse so hard that it shakes the pictures on the wall. Would you?"

This was insane.

"My dear, some of the ways I’ve had you in this room are enough to make _me_ blush. And that’s saying something."

For some reason, Rose was not blushing.

* * *

This had to be a dream. The Malfoys were supposed to be out of the country. Rose was meant to return what they had taken and be back in a matter of minutes with no one the wiser.

Mr. Malfoy looked every bit his age, with his receding hairline and his thinning mouth. And although Scorpius resembled him closely, Rose doubted that Scorpius would look like this in a hundred years. Mr. Malfoy's shoulders were tauter, his eyes narrower from squinting, his grasp tighter. He seemed to Rose to be a man who was willing to grab onto anything to keep from drowning in quicksand, yet he was entirely unwilling to leave the swamp.

And here she was, right in the middle of the swamp of her own volition. She stood transfixed, toying idly with the object in her pocket.

“Come away from the fire, my dear,” Mr. Malfoy encouraged her. He set his glass of firewhiskey down on his desk and began working on his cufflinks.

Rose jumped slightly when he dropped the cufflinks on the polished surface of his desk with a heavy _clink_. Then he began pacing in her direction, rolling up his sleeves as he went, and Rose panicked. “It’s obvious I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere,” she said. “I apologize for the intrusion.”

She whirled around and reached for the floo powder, but it soared past her outstretched fingers and across the room, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Mr. Malfoy slipping his wand back out of sight and setting the small ceramic container down on the coffee table. He was now only a few meters away from her.

“You have definitely taken a wrong turn,” he agreed. “Now come away from the fire.”

* * *

"It's gorgeous," Rose said as Scorpius dangled the stolen necklace proudly in front of her. It was goblin-wrought gold, the pendant a stylized dragon.

"Isn't it?" Scorpius replied with a smirk, motioning for her to turn so he could fasten it around her neck. "Best keep it hidden, though." Rose felt a shiver go through her as the clasp caught. "There's no telling what my father would do if he found out I gave it to you."

_The End_


End file.
